


Over the Edge

by Adabotcon



Series: The Twin's Luck [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Bad Luck, Donald Duck Needs a Hug, Donald Duck's anger, Donald Duck's luck, FLUFF EVENTUALLY, Family Feels, Gen, Kidnapping, Mark Beaks is a narcissist, Science Experiments, cartoon violence, overuse of selfies, weird theories about his luck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25071265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adabotcon/pseuds/Adabotcon
Summary: Donald insists on staying home from the next adventure the family goes on. It wouldn't normally be a problem, but Scrooge and Della's strange theories about Donald's luck come into play again when Mark Beaks shows up at the McDuck home.
Relationships: Donald Duck & Mark Beaks, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck
Series: The Twin's Luck [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700299
Comments: 14
Kudos: 175





	Over the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I apologize for the wait everyone. I kept rewriting Mark Beaks because he wasn't dramatic enough, then I ended up with some personal problems. So, real life got in the way. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> This is unbeta'd.

Donald leaned against the door and rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine, Uncle Scrooge," he insisted. Scrooge stood in front of him with his arms on his hips. A worried frown marred his beak. Donald crossed his arms.

"I'd just feel better if ye'd come with us lad," the trillionaire admitted. His eyes went to Donald's arm. It was out of the sling it had needed to be in after Flinty had kidnapped the sailor. Scrooge still felt a boiling rage in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

The arm had been dislocated when Donald had escaped from the glass display case he'd been held in. It hadn't helped that the sailor had then proceeded to pummel Flintheart's new bodyguard. The doctor had demanded he rest it for a few days. Thus the sling.

But Donald's arm was better if not a hundred percent. At least he'd be able to defend himself.

"I'm more likely to be attacked going with you," Donald reminded Scrooge. The Scotsduck cleared his throat and tightened his hand on his cane. Donald's eyes narrowed.

"Aye," Scrooge said slowly. "I'd normally agree, but this is the tenth time ye've stayed home. Yer luck-"

"That isn't a thing," Donald insisted with a growl. "I can't believe Della, and you still think her living here causes my luck to get me kidnapped." Scrooge cleared his throat.

"I mean they might be right, Uncle Donald," commented Huey. The two ducks looked down to see that the triplets. They'd gotten out of the car to see what was taking so long. Huey had pulled out his notebook. "None of  _ us  _ really remember you getting kidnapped until the moon invasion."

"And that was because you accidentally hit the launch on mom's rocket," Dewey added.

"It  _ is _ becoming a new pattern," Louie agreed reluctantly.

"So if you include getting captured on the moon... that's three times within almost as many months," Huey finished. Donald looked flustered.

"It's just a coincidence," he quacked unhappily. "I've also been coming on more adventures." Huey nodded and added that point to his notebook. Scrooge shook his head.

"The last time Della and I left ye here the tenth time ye managed to get kidnapped by the fae." Donald turned bright red and stomped his foot.

"That was over a decade ago!" Scrooge and the triplets shared a look. "Look," Donald said wearily. "I need a break. My arm is still weak even if it's out of the sling. And even if leaving me behind for the tenth time means I'll get kidnapped, it'll have to happen at  _ some point _ ."

Scrooge felt his shoulders droop. Because his nephew had a point. "Aye, yer right," he mumbled in agreement. He straightened and continued, "Ye'll stay in the manor while we're gone?"

Donald rolled his eyes. "Yes, Uncle Scrooge."

"Beakley will be here-"

"I don't need a babysitter."

"-and there's more security around the house then yer boat." Donald put a hand on Scrooge's shoulder to stop the flow of information.

"Unkie. Stop, I'll be fine," he reassured the older duck. "I'll just stay in the manor and catch up on a few series. Maybe I'll finish that Darkwing Duck show Launchpad is always going on about."

"Just don't let Launchpad hear you say that," Dewey warned. Donald chuckled and looked back up at Scrooge. The two stared at each other for a moment, and then the older nodded slowly.

"Aye," he finally agreed. He clapped a hand on Donald's shoulder. "We'll be back before dark, lad." He and the triplets went back to the car where Della, Webby, and Launchpad were waiting.

"Stay safe," Donald whispered as he watched them drive away.

\----

"What's wrong, kiddo?" Della asked Huey as the car turned onto a country road. The red triplet was frowning down at his Junior Woodchuck guide. He glanced up when his mother spoke to him.

"I was wondering why you and Uncle Scrooge seem so adamant about this tenth time thing," he admitted. "I can see how you being with us on adventures  _ seems _ to be twisting Uncle Donald's luck. But I don't see how him staying home for the tenth time would be a problem."

Della and Scrooge glanced at each other. "It's not always the tenth time," Della replied, taking out her own Woodchuck guide. She opened to a page and turned it around to face Huey.

His eyes widened, and he snatched up the book. "This is-"

"It's the section I wrote about Donald's luck back in the day," Della said fondly. 

"It's not in mine," Huey mumbled.

"They disregarded it. Said there was no way all that happened to one person," Della sneered, crossing her arms. She huffed. "Honestly, considering who the founder is, you'd think the Junior Woodchucks would be more open to strange articles."

Huey nodded, remembering his own difficult time getting sections published. Even with evidence, not many people would believe some of the stuff the Duck-McDuck family did.

Webby leaned over Huey's shoulder. "Wow," she commented, her eyes sparkling. "I didn't know Mr. Donald was engaged to the queen of the fairies."

"What?!" The three triplets roared.

"He never said yes," Della replied with a chuckle. "That was right before, well, before I left. He got snatched up while he was sleeping."

"That was a tenth time," Huey muttered, his eyes quickly scanning all the information. His breath caught. "Wait, some of these dates. You guys would have been in kindergarten."

"That's when I started documenting it," Della agreed. "Originally, I was going to write down all his bad luck, but that became too much of a hassle. I didn't really notice that there were specific kidnapping ones until we started living with Uncle Scrooge."

"It was a normal part of yer life," Scrooge recalled. "I only noticed because I was with him when ye weren't. I wouldnae have thought about it except you were at camp..."

"And Donald didn't get kidnapped for three full months," Della hummed. The twin turned over the page that Huey was looking at and pointed. It was another timeline—this one partially written in Uncle Scrooge's handwriting.

"Huh..." Huey muttered, seeing the comments every summer that no kidnappings had happened. "Okay..." The Junior Woodchuck turned over the page and frowned. There was some writing about the adventures Della and Scrooge had gone on by themselves. Every tenth, sometimes ninth, sometimes eleventh; time that they went out on their own, there was a big paragraph about Donald being kidnapped.

"So that looks pretty consistent," Huey agreed.

"But if Uncle Donald gets kidnapped a lot less frequently when he isn't with you, why not leave him home more often?" Louie asked bluntly. His eyes were narrowed at the two adult ducks. "You were awfully worried about leaving him."

Scrooge and Della glanced at each other. 

"It takes a lot longer to get him home," Della replied. "Because we don't usually find out until our adventure is over."

"And it's usually worse," Scrooge admitted.

Louie frowned in worry. "Worse?" he asked.

"Well, like being kidnapped by the Fae? That led to a near wedding and all these rituals we had to do to get him. Like he was down there for days, and he still won't talk about what happened," Della recalled.

"Or when he was taken by Medusa to be a statue," Scrooge lamented. "We didnae find him 'til he turned up in the Duckberg Museum." 

"Or- or when Rockerduck kidnapped him to be his heir," Della added slyly. Scrooge scowled.

"That no-good nephew thieving con artist," Scrooge snarled. His fist slammed against the car door. "I wish I could bankrupt him twice over!"

"So, a bunch of little kidnappings are easier to deal with?" Webby asked.

"Eh, nae exactly," Scrooge muttered.

"It doesn't stop the big kidnappings," Della agreed. "But if he's with us on an adventure, at least we're  _ right there. _ "

The triplets were staring at the two of them with wide-eyes. "Then shouldn't we go back and get him?" Dewey gulped. Della's eyes widened, and she quickly patted Dewey's shoulder. Louie's eyes rolled.

"Donnie will be okay! That was over a decade ago, so I'm sure he's learned a lot more tricks!" The triplets glanced at each other, and Della hesitated. "Right?"

Scrooge cleared his throat. "He needs a break, and I left Beakley with him."

"Granny can take care of anyone!" Webby chirped.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Huey agreed reluctantly. He snapped Della's book closed and handed it back to her. "Uncle Donald will be fine."

"It's not like he goes out of his way to find trouble," Dewey chimed in.

\----

A loud quack of outrage resounded through McDuck manor. A few cushions flew out from one of the entertainment rooms. Donald felt tears come to his eyes. "No, you were my favorite ship," he complained to the TV. He fell dramatically, face-first onto the couch and sniffed. "They've killed it." He heard Mrs. Beakley snort.

"That's what happens when you prefer the romances that aren't canon," she warned teasingly.

"I like canon romances too," Donald muttered back. "I just don't like Rebecca with Winston." He heard the other duck hum in agreement.

"They are a fairly typical pairing," she agreed. "The main protagonist male always gets together with the main protagonist female." Donald grunted in discouragement. He raised his head and glared at the housekeeper.

"He's too naive for her."

"I don't disagree," Beakley said in amusement. "But, they are sweet together."

"It's annoying. How is he supposed to  _ understand _ her struggles, if he can't even-"

"Understand what she's saying?" Beakley finished softly. The two were quiet for a moment.

"I'm not projecting," Donald insisted with a pout.

"I didn't say you were,  _ but _ -"

"Here it comes."

"- _ even if you were. _ That is alright." Donald froze and glanced up at the taller duck. Beakley was looking at him with a small smile. The sailor couldn't hold the gaze and glanced back at the TV.

"Thanks," Donald whispered after a minute.

"You're welcome." Donald sunk deeper into the couch. He'd wrapped himself in the blanket the kids had given him after Glomgold had kidnapped him. It was warm and still smelled of them, Della and Scrooge.

Mrs. Beakley stood up after the episode ended. She had tears in her eyes that hadn't fallen. But it made Donald happier to know that he wasn't the only one affected by silly television shows.

"I need to make dinner," she told the sailor. "Will you be alright here alone?"

Donald snorted. "Yes," he squawked. "Despite what Uncle Scrooge thinks, I  _ can  _ take care of myself."

"He just worries." The sailor felt a blush enter his cheeks and feather and pulled the blanket over his beak.

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "He doesn't need to. I'm not-"  _ worth it. _ "-a kid anymore." Beakley shook her head.

"Indeed, you are not. But you  _ are _ Scrooge McDuck's nephew." With that, the housekeeper left the room to the kitchen. Donald went back to staring at the TV screen. It was nice to do something safe for a change.

Just as he was thinking this, he heard the doorbell ring. The duck twitched and tried to ignore it. However, whoever it was seemed to be extremely persistent, and they had taken to leaning against the doorbell three minutes later.

Finally, he heard an annoyed shout from Mrs. Beakley in the kitchen. "Could you get that? The vegetables will burn if I leave right now."

Donald stood up, grumbling in annoyance. He grabbed the front door and jerked it open. "What?" he snapped. Donald glared at the two large men in front of him. One of them stepped back from the doorbell, and the insistent ringing finally stopped. The other cleared his throat and brought out a phone.

He clicked the play button, and Donald's anger flew away in the face of confusion. Trumpets fell from the phone's speakers, followed by some very well done electric guitar. Donald covered his eyes as the wind picked up. He glanced up to see a helicopter begin descending on the mansion.

Finally, a voice came on like a presenter at a sporting event.

"Presenting! The one! The only! Mark Beeeeaks!" From the helicopter, a floating... scooter or something fell out and slid to a stop in front of Donald. The parrot on the cooter spread his arms out and grinned at the sailor.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the parrot Mark Beaks, Donald assumed, crowed.

He gave the parrot on it a deadpan look. The music went on for a few more seconds. It then died out with a sputtering awkwardness as the bulky birds that had initially been rung the doorbell fumbled with the phone.

"So-" began Mark Beaks.

"No soliciting," Donald stated and slammed the door in the parrot's face. He walked away from the door, his mind already on the next episode of his show.

Mark Beaks sat out in front of McDuck Manor, blinking in shock. His beak dropped open, then closed, then opened again. "Did... did he just slam the door on me?" he squeaked out. His two bodyguards glanced at each other. "I mean, that's impossible, right? Who would slam a door on  _ Mark Beaks? _ " the parrot gave a slightly insane laugh. "The wind probably blew it shut."

He turned suddenly on the other two. "Get this open," he demanded. Bodyguard number one pressed on the doorbell repeatedly. A few seconds later, the door flew open again.

The short duck narrowed his eyes at the three men in front of him. "What?" he glowered.

"I'm Mark Beaks," Mark started slowly in a condescending manner. Donald's eyes narrowed even further.

"So?" Donald snapped out. Beaks spluttered, and the duck went to slam the door again. Bodyguard number two put his body in the way this time and pushed the door open. Donald gave an indignant squawk as he stumbled away.

Beaks' scooter hovered into the mansion. "This  _ is _ McDuck's place, right? I was pretty sure since I was invited once-"

"He's not here," Donald said bluntly. He tapped his foot impatiently. The parrot's gaze went to the small duck again. There was a bit of curiosity in his eyes.

"And you're holding down the fort while the family is out?" he asked. "Boo." Beaks gave an exasperated sigh and tapped on his phone. "And I'd wanted to brag about how my new music app is doing soooo much better than McDuck's."

Donald rolled his eyes. "Well, he's not here. So, leave. I was watching my shows." He turned his back on the invaders, muttering under his breath as he began to walk away.

"Hey, if McDuck isn't here, maybe that red-clad nephew of his-" Beaks felt his breath stop when the small duck suddenly spun back around. Before, it'd felt like the duck was basically ignoring him. But now all of the intensity in that body was suddenly narrowed in on the parrot.

The bodyguards next to him began to move in front of their boss, but they were too slow. Suddenly, penetrating eyes were up in Beaks' face, and he heard the sound of a crack as he was pushed up against the manor's wall. Donald's eyes swirled in a strange menace. The calm in the eye of the storm.

"What do you want with my nephew?" cold fury asked. The parrot swallowed as panic ran down his spine.

"Just, he always ruins everything, so I was going to brag to him too," Mark stuttered out. The eyes melted right before him. The duck relaxing and stepping back.

"Oh," Donald said once again, dismissing the idiot in front of him. The bodyguards actually stumbled back in confusion as he passed by them. Mark glanced behind him and blinked at the cracks along the surface of the granite wall behind him.

"Huh," he muttered a tone of interest. His eyes went to Donald's hands. One of them was bleeding but didn't appear to even be broken. Beaks hummed in wonder.

Just what sort of cybertronics had Scrooge put inside this duck... wait he'd said nephew hadn't he? He was too young to be McDuck's brother, but if Mark Beaks remembered right, McDuck had another older nephew.

Oh! He  _ must _ have let Gearloose experiment on him. The parrot tilted his head as he watched the duck walk away.  _ Ignoring him _ . Not even Gizmoduck  _ ignored _ him. He felt a pout come to his beak.

That simply wouldn't do. He needed those eyes on him again.

"Weeelll," Mark Beaks drawled in an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "If neither of them is here, I might as well go." Donald turned waved.

"Good riddance," he muttered as the three men did indeed leave. He heard the door shut, and he huffed. Honestly, couldn't his uncle's enemies have better timing?

He froze as the feathers on the back of his neck suddenly fluffed up. His feet stopped, and he listened. There it was another small 'tink.'

"Oh, phooey!" he yelled as he turned. He'd recognized that sound, though it had been years. His eyes caught the canister's gleam right before it sprayed. He moved his hand up to his beak to stop breathing in the gas.

It spread quickly throughout the manor. Mrs. Beakley was too late in covering her own beak and cursed before she fell to the ground, unconscious.

He moved behind a suit of armor as the door opened again. The two bodyguards came in with gas masks. Donald narrowed his eyes. Alright, he only had so long before he couldn't hold his breath. He'd need to be fast but careful.

He slid to the next suit of armor as the birds came in, both glancing around. He waited until they passed by before launching himself at the closest one.

He slammed both of his fists on the bird's neck. He grunted and went down. But it had been too loud. The other bodyguard had spun and slammed his fist into Donald's abdomen. The breath whooshed out of him. He gasped.

"Not again," he started to sway and went down within a few seconds. He saw feet approaching him before his entire existence went black.

\-----

Mark Beaks hummed happily as the helicopter landed on his building. One of his bodyguards had whiplash, but that was a small price to pay to get a one-up on McDuck and Gearloose. He typed happily into his phone as the team moved the unconscious duck down to the labs.

They'd barely gotten Donald strapped down when he started to wake up. Beaks positioned himself next to Donald's head, an arm wrapped under the duck's chin. He held out his phone with the other one and snapped a selfie with the semi-conscious duck.

"You're not very photogenic," Beaks remarked a little disappointed. He heard a small groan from the sailor.

"Why-" Donald grumbled. He let out a huff of exasperation. "Do you realize you just proved my uncle and sister, right?!" Beaks finished typing his post and sending it.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he chirped. "Hm, you aren't even trending yet. Boring." He placed his phone in his pocket and turned to face Donald. "Ooo, you look angry again."

The sailor growled and tugged at his wrists. "Why did you kidnap me, you big palooka?"

"Wow, rude," Beaks pouted. "I just wanted to get to know you. Maybe find out your favorite color, what food you like, what enhancements Gearloose has put into your body." Donald's rage stuttered into a look of confusion.

"Did you just say enhancements?"

"Yup," Beaks popped the 'p.' He ruffled Donald's feather's on the top of his head as if he were a dog or a duckling. "We're going to put you through an x-ray first. Unless you can tell me what experiments have been done to you."

"Nothing's been done to me!" Donald insisted in frustration. "What even made you think that it had?"

Beaks stood back and shrugged. "Normal ducks don't have the power to crack walls." The sailor continued to look confused. "You didn't notice? When I mentioned Hu-what's his face. You punched next to my head." He made a whooshing motion with his fist. "It cracked the wall behind me."

"It was amazing," Beaks continued with a dreamy sigh. "I want that kind of power with your figure. Well, not exactly your figure since you're, you know, tiny." Donald gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing in annoyance.

"Would you stop talking," Donald hissed. "You're voice is so annoying."

Beaks gasped in offended pride. " _ My _ voice is annoying? Have you heard yours?"

"Oh yes, very original," Donald snapped sarcastically, hiding the wince that statement always caused.

"I'm always original. I'm Mark Beaks, baby!" the parrot crowed as he threw his arms out. "And I-" dropped his arms and pulled out his phone again. "-am bored of this conversation. Let's get to the highly illegal experimentation!"

"Wait- what?" Donald quacked in fear. Beaks grinned, and suddenly the sailor saw the maliciousness in it.

"Say highly illegal experiments selfie!" the parrot shouted, snapping another selfie with Donald just as a machine dropped over the sailor's eyes. "Ugh, still awful," he heard above him.

Donald felt a pinch on the back of his neck. He gritted his teeth as pinpricks of pain shot down his spine. His arm jerked in the bonds. He bit back a whimper.

This was nothing, he told himself. The parrot's shadow appeared above him, and curious eyes gazed down at him.

What felt like hours later, Donald's tension finally released. The pain had disappeared, but he'd been hooked up into so many machines his head was spinning. The current one didn't seem to be as bad as the last few. "Er, is, is this supposed to do something?" he asked.

"Just a scan," said a voice that wasn't Beaks at all, "That'll tell us about any sort of nanobots or mechanical limbs."

"Did the brat leave?" Donald asked. He heard some snickers around him.

"The brat totally left," the amused voice agreed.

"Then-" the duck began hopefully.

"-We won't be letting you go. If even half of what Mr. Beaks said was true, I'm interested too. Besides, the chance to deconstruct a Gearloose experiment is a once in a lifetime experience."

"Nothing was done to me," Donald muttered. He heard the laugh again.

"Sure."

\----

Donald was almost relaxed by the time Mark Beaks came back. He was lying down and staring at the ceiling. Which was admittedly, incredibly dull. But it was better than being tortured, so he was okay with it.

The scientists were frustrated, which was kind of hilarious. "Nothing?!" demanded Beaks.

"There really isn't anything to indicate that he has enhancements of any kind," the lead scientist insisted.

"Then how did he do it?" All of the lab assistants shrugged. Beaks sipped loudly on the latte in his hand. His eyes were narrowed.

"But he  _ did _ do it," he muttered. Donald blinked, as the parrot's face suddenly filled his line of vision. His beak was poked annoyingly. "Hello again. Feel like telling me-"

"It's just me!" the sailor shouted, jerking on the metal that pinned him down. Mark Beaks hummed.

"Sir, it really doesn't seem like he has the strength that you're talking about," said one of the scientists hesitatingly.

"Excuse me," Beaks rounded on the bird. "Are you saying  _ I'm _ wrong?  _ Me?" _ The scientist shook her head quickly. The parrot gave a sharp laugh that crawled down Donald's spine. It wasn't insane, nor far worse it was dismissive. "Besides, I have an idea."

Beaks turned back to Donald a grin on his beak. "You really can't escape right now?" The sailor forced his face into a deadpan look. "Then, maybe you need more of a reason."

"More than being experimented on?" Donald asked sarcastically.

"Well, it will still technically be an experiment."

\-----

Donald wasn't sure how long he was strapped down. But it wasn't long enough to build what was sitting in front of him.

"Do you just have a shark tank  _ lying around? _ " he shrieked as he was forced onto the roof. And indeed, there was a large glass tank in front of him. He tried to jerk his arms out of the bodyguards that held him. His eyes wandered up. There was a metal scaffold erected next to the tank.

A beam was stuck out over the water.

"Don't be ridiculous. I have a pool lying around. I borrowed the sharks," Mark Beaks replied. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the beam. "He goes up there, boys."

Donald twisted his body and screamed back at the billionaire. "You're seriously going to do the 'hang him over a tank of sharks' bit?!"

"Yeah, some people might think it's cliche. But according to the 'It List' the classics are  _ in _ ." Beaks lifted up his camera and steadied it as his bodyguards pulled the beam back. They wrestled Donald into holding still as they snapped metal chains connected to it around his wrists. Then thrust the beam back out over the tank, and the billionaire snapped a photo.

He brightened. "Hey," he called up to the angrily dangling duck. "Desperation is a good look on you!"

"You moth-" the rest of Donald's shout was drowned by him yelping. A shark had lunged at him from the pool. He tugged his feet and tail up and out of the way. It fell back into the pool with a loud splash drenching the sailor with saltwater.

The parrot leaned against the tank and flipped a switch. Donald hissed as he was suddenly blinded by spotlights.

"Say, cheese, baby. I'm going to make you the top trending story in Duckberg!" he heard from the parrot. Donald blinked the dots out of his eyes. "Now show me that strength."

The sailor snarled and looked up at his wrists. He swung with a grunt and got his feet around the beam just before another shark tried to bite him. He whimpered.

"I just wanted to watch my shows," he complained as he started to furiously tug at his wrists. He'd end up having bruises at this rate. "I. Just. Wanted. A. Break!" He gasped as his feet slipped, and he swung out over the tank again.

The wind picked up, and Donald's tail twitched as he heard the sound of blades whirring.

"Oh, hey, is that a news helicopter?" Beaks cheered below him.

"Oh, phooey," Donald hissed under his breath. There was no way he'd be able to keep this from Uncle Scrooge now.

\----

Fenton closed the door to his house. His mamá was out late on a case, and he was planning on making dinner for her. He put the Gizmoduck suit in his room and loosened his tie. It had been a relatively crime-free day. Though his experiment had a lot of failures, he really thought he was getting somewhere.

Even Dr. Gearloose had made a hum of interest about it today. Fenton flicked on the television for background sound as he started puttering around the kitchen. He was basically ignoring it until he heard a familiar name.

Mark Beaks. He shot out of the kitchen and leaned over the back of the couch with narrowed eyes.

"-strange stunt of some kind," the station was reporting. "We are taking you live to our news helicopter." The camera switched over to an aerial view of Mark Beaks' building. The one that he'd rebuilt after basically blowing it up after stealing Fenton's suit.

"Oh, no!" Fenton whispered as the camera zoomed in on the roof.

"As you can see, there appears to be a scaffold next to the pool that Mr. Beaks built a few weeks ago. Wait, is there someone-  _ dangling from it?" _ the reporter's voice sounded worried. As it should.

Because Fenton recognized the duck. He was one of Mr. McDuck's nephews. "Oh, duck!" the reporter hissed as the camera caught a shark leaping out of the tank. The duck moved just in time to avoid getting chomped on by the predator. "Did we just see a shark?!"

Fenton grabbed the Gizmoduck suit and moved out of his house. "Blathering Blatherskite!" The metal suit pieces flew around his body, and Gizmoduck shot off. He headed towards Waddle.

It only took a few minutes. His eyes were focused on Donald as he began to sweep down. Then his visor blinked in warning, and he jerked to the side just in time. A missile sped past him and exploded.

Gizmoduck frowned when he saw security guards swarming the roof. A few of them carried what looked like rocket launchers, but the superhero wouldn't be surprised if there was more to them.

Mark Beaks stood by his security guards. He had a broad smile on his beak and his phone out. "Oh, this is great," the parrot shouted. "But I can't have you rescuing him, Gizmoduck! His secrets are  _ mine _ ." Beaks moved his hand in a signal to continue, and Fenton began to swerve as multiple missiles came at him.

"Get the hostage out of harm's way first," Fenton muttered as he put on a burst of sped up. He smacked a missile out of the air right before he screeched to a halt in mid-air next to Donald.

"Fear not, citizen!" Gizmoduck exclaimed in his 'hero' voice. "I am here to rescue you!" Scrooge's nephew was giving him a deadpan look that made Fenton a bit nervous. He cleared his throat and reached for the other duck's binds.

He began to tug at the steel. "What is this made of?" he asked flabbergasted. "My suit should be able to-" Another missile went off far too close to home, and then both ducks yelped in alarm when the shark jumped again.

"Don't you have a laser in that sci-fi tin can?" Donald demanded.

"It's too big to use without hurting you," Gizmoduck explained.

"So, use it on the beam!" the sailor demanded. The superhero blinked and turned his attention to the beam.

"Oh! Good idea- uh," he activated the laser moving through the metal beam like butter. He reached out to catch Donald, but a harpoon suddenly sunk into his armor, and he was jerked back. He watched in horror as the sailor fell toward the shark tank.

Donald knew he was in trouble as fear coursed down his spine. It was just his luck. He gritted his beak, and his eyes flashed with determination. He wouldn't let this beat him. He quacked angrily and jerked his arms up as hard as he could.

The beam they were attached to jerked as well. But the jerk at least caused it to fly in a slightly different direction. It took Donald with it, and out of reach of the sharks. The sailor grunted as his body hit the side of the tank. The beam fell outside of it and dragged him to the ground.

Donald winced, even as he scrambled to his feet. He looked up at the security guards surrounding him. But the fear racing in his body boiled. Donald wrapped his hands around the beam and lifted it with seeming ease. He swung it at the security with a vengeance.

"Feed me to the sharks will ya!" he shouted, and he knocked the beam into one of the guard's side. He went flying and hit the shark tank with a thud. "I'll show you-" The rest of the sentence was incomprehensible as he gave a roar and the bodyguards scattered.

Mark Beaks' phone was trained on the scene. The parrot hummed happily.

Gizmoduck wrenched his arm up, causing the missile/harpoon (apparently) launcher to jerk out of the bodyguard's hand. Another harpoon stuck in his leg armor. He grunted in pain as sudden electricity ran up this one and into the suit.

"Blathering Blatherskite," he yelled as he jerked that one out of its owners' hand. Gizmoduck flew up to avoid the shark, and he scanned the tank in panic. He didn't see any blood and, with some relief, moved his search to the roof.

He blinked, and his mouth dropped when he saw that tiny duck wielding a giant metal beam at his captors. "That's the McDuck family for you," he chuckled in disbelief.

The sailor seemed able to take care of himself now, Gizmoduck figured. He turned his sights on Beaks.

\----

Scrooge's beak was in a wide grin as the family ran into the Sunchaser. Dewey and Della fell to the ground laughing in delight. Webby was immensely hyper as she recounted the whole adventure to a more subdued, but still happy Huey.

His eyes roamed over to Louie, who was quiet but had a soft smile on his beak. He slipped in between the two groups and was typing away on his phone.

"I dinnae think there will be any reception here," Scrooge commented to the duckling as the plane took off.

"Oh, there will be soon," Louie declared forcefully. The Scottish duck chuckled and sat next to his nephew. His hand twisted his cane as the plane gathered altitude. He watched the clouds go by in the window. He could still feel the adrenaline in his veins.

"You're fidgeting with your hat," Louie muttered as the Sunchaser leveled out. Scrooge snatched his hand away from the brim of his tophat. His cheeks flushed. He glanced down at his nephew, who was looking at him knowingly.

Scrooge cleared his throat. "Still have energy from the rock slide," he tried to explain.

"You're worried about Uncle Donald," Louie disagreed instantly. The trillionaire had to stop his hand from automatically coming up to play with his hat again. Instead, he clenched his cane a bit harder.

Louie's eyes went down to his hand, and his eye ridge lifted. Scrooge wasn't sure whether to be proud and impressed by his nephew's sharp eye or annoyed that he was being caught by it.

He decided on the later. "I'm not," he whined. Louie frowned, and then someone from Scrooge's left spoke up.

"You should be more accepting of your emotions Uncle Scrooge," Huey commented.

"It's okay to be worried!" Webby added. "It just means you love the person."

"I know that," Scrooge muttered embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "Alright, so I'm worried. There's nothing we can do about it now." He straightened his back. "Might as well talk about something else." The three ducklings eyed each other knowingly.

"Yeah, alright," Huey agreed. "Do you think the ancient Sumerians taught magic? They seem to have a lot of traps that are activated by-" Scrooge just knew that the red-clad duckling had chosen  _ magic _ as the topic to get back at him.

He'd take it though. He needed to get his mind off of Donald anyway.

_ He's fine. Beakley is with him, and Glomgold is on the run... why isn't that fact a help? _

It was a few hours later that Louie cheered as his phone reconnected to the internet. At that point, Dewey and Della were singing karaoke with Launchpad at the front of the plane.

Huey and Webby's discussion of magic had drawn in a reluctant Scrooge to the back of the plane. He had a lot of personal experience with it, even if he disliked it.

"I just dinnae see why ye would use magic for something ye can do without it," Scrooge maintained. "There's too much of a chance for backlash."

"But if you're using it to help someone," Webby argued. Scrooge shook his head.

"There's still the chance the backlash will cause more problems than it helps," he said.

"Uncle Scrooge-"

"And even if,  _ if _ it's used for good, it might be twisted for evil."

"Uncle Scrooge-"

"I don't think you should use that argument," Huey disagreed. "Lots of things can be used for evil, that doesn't mean we shouldn't use them to help people."

"Normal things dinnae have hidden-"

"Uncle Scrooge!" The shout from Louie finally broke through the argument. Scrooge felt his heart plummet as he turned to look at his green-clad nephew. The cry had been panicked.

Louie's eyes met with Scrooge's, and he held up his phone. A video was playing on it. "Uncle Donald is on the news!" Scrooge was up and moving over to the duckling before the sentence had finished.

He snatched the phone out of the other's hand and cursed when it went black. "Where'd it go?" he panicked.

Louie grabbed the phone and clicked a button to bring the screen back up. He held it firmly up to Scrooge's face and turned up the volume.

"-Gizmoduck appears to be fighting Waddle's security. The duck we saw dangling above the shark tank has been gotten down. We are trying to confirm if the duck was Scrooge McDuck's nephew, however-" There was a loud screech.

"Oh my. He's falling off the roof!" The camera panned, and Scrooge watched wide-eyed as his nephew fell backward off the building.

"Donald-" he gasped as the ducklings cried out in worry from behind him.

"Donnie!" Della shouted from somewhere nearby. But everything in the trillionaire's being was focused on the falling figure.

\---

Donald cursed his narrow focus as he soared out over the edge of the roof. His rage had pumped through his body as he swung at the bodyguards around him. He'd managed to clear them out enough that he had a line of sight on Mark Beaks.

"You doggone pest," he hissed.

"Rude," Beaks commented as he held up his phone and snapped another picture. Donald's eyes narrowed. The parrot whistled. "You look so much better like this! Wild. But somethings missing. Oh, wait, it's me!" To the duck's consternation, Beaks spun around and snapped a selfie.

"Are you seriously taking selfies in the middle of a fight?" the sailor demanded.

"Well, I'm not stopping you from swinging," the parrot replied nonchalantly. He stopped typing on his phone and looked up. "It's because I'm so handsome, isn't it? You can't stand the idea of hitting my f-"The parrot yelped and ducked the beam Donald had swung at him.

Beaks took off on his scooter. The sailor ran after him. He smacked a couple bodyguards out of the way, his eyes were so focused on finally hitting that smug beak he missed the second beam heading for him.

His eyes widened as it hit him squarely in the side. He quacked out in dismay as it pushed him to the edge of the building. The beam had been thrown by three of the bodyguards.

He tried to scramble and grab the roof, but his hand missed, and he found himself plummeting to the ground. He looked around him in desperation. But the beam that had flung him from the roof was too far away. But the one still connected to him wasn't. Donald spun in the air and grabbed the metal.

He heaved on it and thrust it into the side of the building. The glass cracked beneath. Donald gritted his beak. Of course, it hadn't worked. He couldn't die here! What about the kids? What would they do-

He gave a quack of pain as the beam abruptly stopped, and his arms jerked him to a stop.

"Ow," he muttered as he blinked dizzily at the ground that was now covered in glass. He glanced up and saw that Gizmoduck had caught the beam.

"You're alright," Gizmoduck whispered in relief. He moved, so he was closer to the dangling duck and reached out to him. Donald flinched a bit as the superhero carefully pulled him up. Gizmoduck froze.

"It's fine," Donald told him through gritted teeth. "My arm's just become dislocated again."

"Let me get you to a hospital," the superhero said.

"Just put me down," Donald quacked, pointing to the ground. "Get after Beaks."

"It's more important to get you to safety," Gizmoduck disagreed.

"It absolutely isn't," the sailor glowered. "And I'm safe, seriously. Stop going towards the hospital!" The superhero was ignoring him at this point. Donald felt a twitch in his eye. "If your so worried, call an ambulance," he agreed reluctantly.

Finally, the tin can went to the ground and placed Donald down gently. The duck fell on his tail and gave a sigh of exasperation. He heard the other duck talking on the phone with someone.

Donald looked up at the building across from them. He smirked a bit, at least the doggone roof was on fire. He hoped that this stunt put Beaks down a couple million in damage repair.

He heard the sirens and closed his eyes, the adrenaline finally running out.

"Mr. McDuck?" asked a worried voice.

"It's Duck actually," Donald muttered and forced his eyes open to look at the superhero. "Shouldn't you be going after Beaks?" He watched Gizmoduck fumble for his words for a bit.

"Uh, that is, right," he cleared his throat. His tone of voice changed to a more heroic one. "Stay safe, citizen!" Donald watched the hero take off, an ambulance pulled up in front of him, and paramedics surrounded both him and the metal beam next to him.

He closed his eyes.

\----

For the first time in decades, Scrooge felt his age. He was confident that his heart had stopped when his nephew fell off the edge of the building. If Gizmoduck hadn't been there... he could only be comforted that he had been. The other thought was too horrible.

_ I should have made him come with us, _ the trillionaire thought distantly. He was snapped out of his thoughts by his own flip phone going off. He handed Louie back the smartphone and took his out.

"What?" he demanded. He tried to ignore the slight shaking of his hands.

"Mr. McDuck," said a British voice. "Donald he's-"

"Aye, I ken," Scrooge cut Beakley off. "I ken where he is too. Will you-" The words stuck in his throat.

"I'll go to him," Beakley agreed quickly. "Tell me where he is." Scrooge raddled off what he knew. "And Mr. McDuck... I'm sorry," there was guilt in the housekeeper's voice.

"Not yer fault," he said grudgingly. "It's impossible to keep that boy out of trouble." He hung up before Beakley could continue the conversation. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and turned to the pilot seat.

"Launchpad," he demanded. "Get us back to Duckburg yesterday."

"You got it, Mr. McDee," Launchpad replied softly.

"Della-"

"I'll help Uncle Scrooge," his niece told him before he could voice the request. She moved to sit next to Launchpad, the two of them putting their heads together to find a way to make the plane faster.

Scrooge sat down. The ducklings were looking at him with quite a bit of worry.

"His teeth are grinding," Webby whispered. Huey opened his beak to reply, but he was cut off by their uncle suddenly speaking.

"Waddle Inc... that no  _ good dozy bampot! _ " he suddenly shouted. "That's the second billionaire to go after him! I'll kill the scabby bassa." The ducklings' eyes widened as Scrooge's tirade became louder and louder.

Dewey brought his own phone out and began recording it.

"What are you doing?" hissed Huey.

"I've never heard this many swears before," the blue-clad twin replied gleefully. His shoulders slumped. He glanced at Louie, who appeared to be ignoring Scrooge. His eyes stuck on the live video of their uncle. "And the one who'd usually be recording it-"

Huey shook his head. "Uncle Donald will kill you."

"Not if he doesn't find out," Dewey disagreed.

"Shhh," hissed Webby. The two boys glanced at her in surprise. She also had her phone out. "You're talking over all the good ones!" They gaped at her. She looked a little embarrassed. "Leena'd like these," she admitted.

Louie let out a huff of exasperation. "He got away," he informed the group.

"What?!" Scrooge screeched in outrage.

"Beaks. Got. Away," Louie repeated. His own tone was disparaging. "Gizmoduck went after him, though."

"He'll catch him," Huey maintained.

"He'd better," Louie muttered ominously and finally turned his eyes to their other uncle. "Or Uncle Scrooge, and I will."

The silence after that was tense. "I wish he'd come with us," Huey whispered just as it became unbearable. Scrooge heard the comment, and his shoulders slumped.

"Aye," he muttered. "But he's too stubborn." Everyone nodded gloomily.

The flight back to Duckberg was unbearable. The family, including Launchpad, were off the plane and in the limo before the engine could die down. It felt like only a few seconds before they were pulling up outside of the police caution tape. 

Huey winced as his uncle stormed right over the officer that tried to stop them. He snapped the tape back without a care. The ducklings, Della, and Launchpad, followed as quickly as they could.

They heard Donald before they saw him. Huey slumped in relief at the sound of his uncle arguing with someone. Scrooge had sped up at the voice, he pushed police and paramedics out of the way.

"Donald!" he shouted. The sailor's head snapped up, and he winced when he saw his family running over to him.

"Uncle Scrooge-" he started to say only to have the triplets throw themselves at his arms. Beakley, who had been standing beside the sailor, put herself in front of him. 

"Hold," she demanded, holding out her hand. Scrooge saw the sling around his nephew's arm and grabbed Louie by the hoodie to pull him back. Della grabbed Huey by the waist, and Launchpad grabbed Dewey by a wrist.

Donald gave out a sigh of relief. "You are Mr. Duck's family?" asked the paramedic. Her eye was twitching in a way that Scrooge knew meant she'd been arguing with Donald.

"Aye," he said, warily dropping Louie to the ground. "Be careful lads, it looks like yer Uncle's shoulder is dislocated... again." The triplets looked sheepish and guilty. But they sidled up to Donald and began to hug him in a much more careful way.

The paramedic pulled Scrooge to the side. He wasn't pleased to see her shoulders droop. "Me nephew-" he asked, distressed.

"He'll be alright," the medic tried to reassure him. "But he won't let us take him to the hospital, and I'm worried about his nervous system. It doesn't seem severe, but I think... he may have had small amounts of electricity run through his system."

Scrooge clenched his cane. "You think he was tortured," he whispered.

"I couldn't say that," the medic disagreed. "He's twitchier then I'd like. But there doesn't seem to be any true loss of motor control. If it did happen, it wasn't a lot. But that's why I'd like him to stay overnight."

"He will nae agree," Scrooge humphed. "Stubborn that one. Tell me what to watch for."

"You can't convince him-"

"Nae," Scrooge interrupted. "He will nae listen to me." He glanced at the family surrounding the duck. "Or the others."

"I thought he wouldn't," the paramedic said miserably. "The lady who came for him before you tried to convince him, but he just yelled something at her."

The paramedic gave Scrooge instructions on what to watch for in Donald for the night. As they'd talked, the sailor jumped out of the back of the ambulance and now was standing in the middle of the ducklings.

"I'm fine," he told them as Scrooge came back up to the group. It didn't reassure anyone. The trillionaire could hear the exhaustion in the voice. It reminded him of the days right before Della came back. When Donald was molting.

The sailor never had gone on that trip. "Lad," Scrooge began softly. Donald looked up, his eyes had a stubborn glean. But there was the sound of an engine close by. The Duck-McDuck family looked up to see Gizmoduck landing near them again. Under his arm was Mark Beaks.

The superhero dropped the parrot onto the ground with a disgusted look and his face. "You caught him!" Huey pronounced trotting up. Fenton placed himself between the curious family and Beaks.

"Hold on uh- concerned citizen. It's dangerous to-" he yelped as Scrooge blew past him. The trillionaire's beak was grinding in anger as he pulled Beaks up by his collar.

"Heeeey, Scrooge, I was looking for you. You know earlier. Found someone waaaaay better, though. Too bad he's dead now," Beaks sounded disappointed.

"It's good for ye that he's nae actually dead then," Scrooge growled, shaking the man.

"Wait seriously?" Mark Beaks asked in honest surprise. "Considering everything I put him through-" His words were cut off as he gagged. Scrooge had tightened his hold enough to choke the parrot.

"Let's talk about that," the adventurer hissed menacingly. "What did ye put me, nephew, through." Scrooge ignored the shadow behind him until a heavy metal hand fell on his shoulder.

"Mr. McDuck," Fenton stammered softly. "You've got to let the police handle him." Scrooge tightened his hold to the point that Beaks' face turned purple. He turned sharply on the superhero.

"What good will that do?" he demanded.

Gizmoduck stared down at the Scottish duck nervously. The trillionaire had to admit he was impressed when the duck pushed through his emotions and stood up to him with a firm, "It's the right thing to do. And your nephew is safe."

"Ye know he'll be out within a day," Scrooge rebuked. "How safe will Donald be then?" Gizmoduck placed a metal hand on the one that Scrooge was using to strangle the billionaire.

"Your nephew is really resourceful. I think he can take care of himself," the superhero declared with an impressed tone. Scrooge slumped and finally let go of Beaks. The billionaire fell to the ground gasping. Police and the media converged on the spot.

"He shouldnae have to," Scrooge lamented. Gizmoduck patted his shoulder awkwardly.

"What happened?" Huey asked Gizmoduck. The superhero turned to the triplets and Della.

"Well-" he began to tell them. Scrooge tuned him out and looked back over to the ambulance. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that Donald wasn't there. He looked around sharply and saw with some relief that Beakley wasn't there either.

After what happened at the mansion, there was no way the housekeeper would let Donald out of her sight. So she must be with him. But where...

Ah, he might not know his nephew so well anymore. But there was one place he might have gone. Scrooge slipped away from the group and began to walk.

It was only five minutes to the fishing dock of Duckburg. It was a commercial area, so there weren't any tourists. And it was night, so the fishermen were all home. It was easy enough to spot the form of Beakley standing at the edge of the pier.

The curled up form of Donald was a bit harder unless you knew he was there.

Scrooge stepped up to the housekeeper, and she glanced down at him with a troubled face. He patted her on the arm awkwardly. "I'll take it from here," he told her. Beakley nodded.

"I will be close by," she assured him. Scrooge turned to face the silhouette of his nephew. His cane clinked on the wooden pier as he came to stand next to the sailor. Donald didn't lookup. He sat with his knees curled up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around them.

The trillionaire let out a sigh and sank to sit on his tail next to the other duck. "Donald," he stated.

"Scrooge," the sailor murmured back. At least he was talking.

"It's been a while since I've seen ye here."

"... I didn't have time to come here when I was raising the boys," Donald whispered.

"Aye. Raising wee trouble makers does take a lot of yer time," Scrooge agreed. Donald snorted and finally looked up. His eyes reflected the moonlight in the sea.

"What's troubling ye lad," Scrooge finally asked, unable to handle the silence anymore. "What did that barmy bampot Beaks-"

"It's not what he did!" Donald interrupted. His voice echoed along the empty pier. The duck let out a sigh. "I can handle what he did. It's-" He bit his beak.

"It's?" Scrooge repeated encouragingly.

"I got so angry with him." Scrooge snorted.

"Well, that's understandable-"

"Not my normal angry. I mean-" Donald circled his finger. "My real temper."

Scrooge tilted his head. "I still dinnae-"

"I lost my temper because he hurt  _ me _ ," Donald shouted angrily. He slammed a fist against the pier. "I only ever lose my temper for the boys, for  _ you, for the family!"  _ his voice cracked and dropped to a whisper. _ " _ I- I'm only supposed to lose it for you."

Ah, thought the older duck. He remembered what Donald's therapist had said. About moving the source of Donald's temper onto helping his family. More specifically, the boys. But Scrooge had seen him lose it to keep all of them safe. It wasn't a bad plan, certainly better than when the younger duck had lost it due to his inability to communicate.

Scrooge frowned as his heart clenched. There was a problem with it, though. "And?" he asked.

Donald's eyes finally snapped over to Scrooge. "And?" he asked in disbelief. "I worked hard to get control of my temper. It's only flared up when my loved ones are in danger for years."

Scrooge folded his arms. "Are ye saying ye aren't worth loving?" he asked bluntly. Donald's breathe caught, and his eyes widened.

"I-" he stuttered.

"Because ye are," Scrooge declared. He put a hand on Donald's shoulder. "Yer important to  _ us  _ lad. Ye  _ should _ be angry when ye get in danger. Ye are included in the loved ones." Donald's eyes filled with tears, and he fell forward into Scrooge's chest.

The adventurer wrapped his arms around his sobbing nephew.

"I just wanted a break, Unkie," Donald said, between crying. Scrooge patted his back, his eyes filling with sorrow. "I just wanted-" He became incoherent again, and Scrooge continued to pat his back.

He wasn't sure how long it when he heard a creak on the pier. He looked up to see that the ducklings and Della were staring at him and Donald. Della's eyes reflected pain, but when they locked with her uncle's, Scrooge also saw determination.

The two of them nodded at each other. "We'll get ye a well-deserved break lad," Scrooge whispered as Donald's sobs died down. "I promise."

"We promise," Huey insisted as he and the other ducklings stepped forward.

"Yeah," Dewey agreed. Donald sniffled and sat up to look at the others. His eyes were red, and he must have been tired because he didn't try to hide it.

"The last vacation didn't work out very well," he muttered. Everyone winced at the reminder.

"Technically, you never did get to go on the cruise," Louie commented thoughtfully.

"We'll figure something out," Della added.

"Aye, we're McDucks," Scrooge declared. "This won't beat us down."

"Ducks don't back down," Dewey shouted with a pumped fist in the air. The others murmured the phrase in agreement. Scrooge was relieved when Donald's body unbent, and he held his arms open.

The four ducklings instantly rushed forward to, carefully, hug their uncle.

"Ducks don't back down," Donald agreed. Scrooge watched his family and determined that they'd make sure his nephew got a real break this time. They'd just have to figure out how to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope it made sense at least a bit.
> 
> Just as a heads up, I'll be putting a ship in the next story of this series. It won't be Donald/Daisy, I love them in the show, but I've never been interested in writing them. I really enjoy writing them as sassy best friends/exes.


End file.
